Chapter 2 - The Midnight Watch
Andrew didn't leave. Instead of walking out to his truck, he slipped down to the hospital cafeteria, bought a stale black coffee, and waited until the visiting restrictions fully shifted into the quiet, hollow hours of midnight.
St. Charles Medical Center at night took on a different personality. The bright, cheerful cartoon animals painted on the walls—the grinning lions and flying giraffes—looked distorted and eerie in the dim, amber glow of the emergency nightlights.
At 1:15 AM, Andrew pulled the hood of his dark jacket up and walked quietly down the third-floor hallway. His rubber-soled boots made no sound against the floor.
When he reached Room 314, the door was cracked open about two inches.
He peered through the gap.
The overhead fluorescent lights were off. The room was illuminated only by the pale moonlight filtering through the window and the steady, rhythmic green blips of the heart monitor.
Marin was awake. She wasn't sleeping. She was sitting upright in the bed, her good arm clutching a small stuffed rabbit to her chest.
And standing beside her bed was Tessa.
Andrew’s breath hitched in his throat. Tessa wasn't wearing her polished daytime expression. Her hair was messy, her face twisted into an ugly, cold sneer. She wasn't holding a phone or a cup of coffee.
She was holding a heavy, leather-bound scrapbook.
“You think your uncle is going to save you?” Tessa’s voice was a low, venomous hiss that cut through the silence of the room. “You think because he talks big and wears those construction boots that he can stop what’s coming? He’s an outsider, Marin. He doesn't know what happens behind closed doors.”
Marin pressed herself back against the pillows, her breath coming in shallow, frightened gasps. “I didn't mean to drop the glass, Mommy. I swear.”
“A drop means clumsiness,” Tessa whispered, leaning closer, her face inches from the little girl’s. “Clumsiness means punishment. Just like the stairs. Just like the door.”
Andrew felt the blood rush to his ears, roaring like a freight train. The sterile air of the hospital turned hot and suffocating.
He didn't wait. He didn't knock.
With a hard shove, Andrew threw the door wide open. It slammed against the drywall with a sharp bang that echoed down the quiet pediatric wing.
Tessa spun around, dropping the leather scrapbook onto the linoleum floor with a heavy thud. Her face drained of all color, her eyes widening in sheer, unadulterated panic.
“Andrew!” she gasped, stumbling backward. “What—what are you doing here? You’re not allowed in the rooms after hours—”
Andrew ignored her completely. He walked past her as if she were a ghost, his broad shoulders tense, and stopped beside Marin’s bed. He gently pulled the blanket down from her good arm, revealing fresh, dark purple bruises shaped like long, narrow fingers wrapping around her forearm.
The sight of those marks turned Andrew’s heart to ice.
“You did this,” Andrew said. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a deadly, freezing calm that made Tessa shiver.
“She fell! I told you, she’s clumsy, she’s always falling—” Tessa shrieked, her voice rising hysterically as she lunged toward the bed to pull Marin away.
Andrew raised his hand, his military training taking over with terrifying efficiency. He didn't strike her; he simply blocked her path with his forearm, his six-foot-two frame acting as an immovable wall.
“Step back, Tessa,” Andrew warned, his eyes locked onto hers. “Step back right now, or I swear to God I will call Child Protective Services and the police before you can take another breath.”
Tessa glared at him, her mask of perfection completely shattered, exposing the cruel, desperate woman underneath. “You can’t prove anything! She’s my daughter! I can raise her however I want!”
“Not anymore,” Andrew said.
May you like
He turned his attention down to Marin, whose small, trembling hand reached out and grabbed his sleeve.
“Uncle Andrew,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Don't let her take me home.”
